


Onset (Year 1-10)

by Squintern



Series: Sleepless Nights [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Family Bonding, Mortal Andy | Andromache of Scythia, Multi, Post-Canon, Team Bonding, Team as Family, just rambling conversations yall, no beta we dont die, sweet rambling conversations, thats all i got for you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29686347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squintern/pseuds/Squintern
Summary: You can talk to any of us, anytime, but ultimately you gotta find what works for you.___Or, three conversations about coping.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Nile Freeman & Andy | Andromache of Scythia, Nile Freeman & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Nile Freeman & Nicky | Nicolo di Genoa
Series: Sleepless Nights [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2181561
Comments: 30
Kudos: 96





	1. Nile & Nicky

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wanted Nile to be able to talk to each of her new family members individually as she adjusted to the team, but then it morphed into a way for me to cope with some of my own grief. So, yeah, just keep the tags in mind through this series. This first set isn't sad, though, I promise. I just sort of went with the flow on this and wrote whatever came up and let the conversations just go whichever way my brain went.

Nile jumps when someone joins her on the balcony. Andy might be used to living in caves still, but when she’s recovering from a gunshot apparently she demands the absolute height of luxury. After much deliberation and frustrated silent conversations, Nicky and Joe had proposed the Caribbean and Andy had agreed. They’re in a five-star hotel that overlooks the sea and Nile doesn’t even want to think about how much their multi-room suite must’ve cost for even a single night. The past several of which she has spent here on the balcony because she can’t sleep. The street noise is faint, but Nile is basking in the almost-silence when the balcony door slides open behind her.

“Sorry,” Nicky murmurs quietly, “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He lingers in the open door, looking unsure for possibly the first time since Nile met him. He’s waiting for her, she realizes, waiting to see if she wants his company or not.

She’s still fairly intimidated by them all. Even Booker had been old enough that she felt absolutely dwarfed by the history he had seen, and here are Joe and Nicky, 700 years older than even Booker, 900 years older than her. (She still hasn’t figured out how old Andy is, but somehow not knowing has lessened how intimidating she is. Or maybe it’s just all the whining for someone to  _ please _ go out and buy more sugar cakes.) She has no idea where to even begin existing around people who were born in the second century of the common era. Maybe this is where she can start, though.

Nile scoots over on the bench she’s sitting on and the corner of Nicky’s mouth lifts. She wonders if that’s all his smiles ever are, then remembers a sketch she caught over Joe’s shoulder a few weeks ago. He had proudly shown it off when she leaned closer, never one to turn down an opportunity to describe Nicky’s various expressions or brag just a little about his own art. Nicky smiles as widely as anyone else, as it turns out, she just hasn’t seen it yet. For now, he settles next to her, close enough for their shoulders to brush. Nile relaxes a little.

She hadn’t realized how tactile she was until her mother’s hugs and her brother’s hair-pulling and her squad’s playful grappling all evaporated. Nicky’s skin is warm, slightly damp with drying sweat. It’s cooler in the night, but he and Joe don’t even separate in their sleep when it’s sweltering. Nile likes cuddling just as much as the next girl, but that seems a bit much to her. She would kick someone out of bed for trying to cuddle when it was hot out. It’s breezy on the balcony, though, and she finds herself leaning into it unconsciously. Nicky seems to relax himself.

“Before Afghanistan, where was the furthest you ever traveled?” he asks. Nile likes that about him. She’s clearly not okay, so he doesn’t ask. He asks what’s on his mind, which usually just so happens to be on a mostly related topic to her entirely new life. Unsubtle, but she doesn’t think he’s ever trying for subtle.

“Springfield,” she replies. Nicky shifts, pulling something from the pocket of the gym shorts he’s wearing.

“You’ll have to help me with the American geography. We have never spent much time there and, frankly, I have gotten rather tired of even attempting to keep track of where everything is now,” he says. “GPS is a wonderful invention.” Nile lets out a surprise laugh. She looks over at him to see him shaking a cigarette from a pack and flipping open a book of matches. He catches her watching and offers her the pack. She shakes her head.

“Okay?” he checks before lighting up. She nods. What’s a little second-hand smoke when her body will heal the damage before it’s even done?

“GPS is pretty great,” Nile says. “Even I’m old enough to remember what a luxury it was in new cars when it first came out.”

“Ask Joe about the time we first attempted to follow a map drawn by Andy,” Nicky says. “It was a long, long time ago, he remembers better than I. We learned our lesson not to trust her directions very quickly.”

He takes a drag of his cigarette and Nile is struck by just how  _ normal _ he looks doing it. Not that 900 year old men should look abnormal smoking, or even that Nicky looks abnormal at all usually, just that it’s the same practiced movement of any other smoker she’s ever seen. For a moment he doesn’t seem all of his centuries old, he just seems like, well, Nicky. Calm, collected, easy-going Nicky who, in any other life, might’ve just been her friend. His mortal life wasn’t much longer than hers is now.

“Don’t take directions from Andy, got it,” Nile says. Nicky smiles slightly again.

“Yes, try following landmarks that no longer exist,” he says. Nile snorts and shakes her head. She tries to lean away from Nicky a bit, his age getting to her head again, without letting him know that’s what she’s doing. He does notice though, and scoots a little further away on the bench. Her skin feels cool where they no longer touch. “So, Springfield?” he prompts.

“Right. About a three hour drive from Chicago, where I grew up,” she says. “The birthplace of Abraham Lincoln. Lots of school trips.” Nicky nods.

“You never left your own state before joining the Marines,” he says.

“Yeah,” Nile says on a sigh.

“I’m afraid we will keep having to impose new experiences on you for a while yet,” Nicky says. Nile slumps into herself.

“I figured,” she tells him. “It’s alright.”

“Is it?” he asks. He reaches behind himself, producing an ashtray from somewhere, and tapping his cigarette into it. He crosses his right ankle over his left thigh and balances it on his knee as he regards her. “You do not have to jump right into this.”

“People need our help,” Nile says quickly. She’s surprised Nicky is the one saying this. From what she understands, he’s always the one to remind them that even a little good is important if they can do it. She thinks he’s the most at peace with Copley’s definitely-not-conspiracy board. He just keeps looking at her seriously, though.

“Yes,” he says slowly, “but we have centuries still to help people. We cannot save everyone, and if it is ourselves we must save first then we will take the time to do so.” He looks away, out over the beach below them. “I think we forgot that by the time we found Booker. We didn’t ask him if he was ready, only expected him to have the capacity to do this work when we were. Perhaps that’s the first place we failed him.”

Nile thinks about that. Thinks about what it would be like to jump from place to despairing place, doing whatever little good they could. Some of the pictures and documents on Copley’s board were nothing more than accounts of burning buildings or earthquakes. Not everything was a war. She thinks maybe that’s a good way to get to where Andy was, wrapped up in tasks too small to understand their greater impact. And to do that without taking the time to process the endless years stretching ahead of her. She shies away from the thought.

“You guys would really be okay with stopping for a while? For me?” Nile asks. Nicky takes another drag of his cigarette.

“We stop often,” he says. “When one or more of us start to feel burnt out. It’s important work, but we are only four. Five, now.” He tilts a smile in Nile’s direction and she smiles back. “And anyway, we need to train you up. You are a strong fighter already, you’ll adapt to new techniques and weapons I’m sure, but there’s more to our work that you’ll need to know. Disappearing in a crowd, surveillance and counter surveillance, lock picking, hacking, undercover work,” he pauses to wave his hand around them, encompassing their balcony and view, “learning the balance of hiding your money away and keeping enough of it accessible for times like this.” Nile sits up suddenly. Nicky straightens, alert from her cues. She flaps a vague hand for him to relax.

“You guys are actually rich, aren’t you?” she says. “This is… is  _ nothing _ to you guys. I mean, you literally have saved money for centuries.” Nicky settles back in his seat, his eyes warm and amused.

“We don’t work for free, usually,” he confirms. Nile glances back into their suite.

“ _ I _ can be rich,” she whispers. Nicky reaches out, telegraphing his moves loud and clear so as to not startle her again, and lays a hand on her arm.

“You already are,” he says. Nile doesn’t pull away and Nicky leaves his hand there. “It will take some time to square away the paperwork to get you bank cards and such, but we have quite a bit of money we hold together and you can do what you want with it until you’ve built up savings of your own.”

Nile stares at him. She can do what she wants with however much (she didn’t even want to guess at a number) money they have. She can help so many people just with cash alone. A happy little bubble swells in her chest.

“I can donate it,” she says. Nicky smiles and squeezes her arm.

“Usually we donate anonymously, in significant but not outrageous sums. Enough to make a difference, but not quite enough to raise eyebrows. Although,” he ducks his head a bit, and his voice is proud and pleased when he continues, “a certain young, gay couple have been regular donors to a few international LGBT charities for many years until their deaths.” Nile smiles at that, a little surprised to find her eyes a bit misty. She leans into Nicky’s side again.

“You’ll show me how to do that too?” she asks, a list of community centers and youth hostels on Chicago’s south side already forming in her mind.

“Of course,” he says. He leans back into her and Nile rests her head on his shoulder. She watches him pinch off the butt on his cigarette and shake out another. Neither suggests going inside. He catches her watching as he lights the second.

“Don’t judge me too much,” he says, his smile widening. “You’ll pick up your own little vices, too.”

“Vices, huh?” she says. “So if yours is smoking, and Andy’s is sugar, and Booker’s is…” she trails off. Nicky nods a bit, but his eyes are cast away again. Nile rallies and clears her throat. “What’s Joe’s?” Nicky turns back to her, a mischievous glint in his eye. He smirks pointedly. Nile pushes away from him, shoving his shoulder.

“Ugh! I would expect that from Andy, not from you!” she says, swatting at his arm. Nicky laughs, low and easy. It’s the first time she’s seen him do that, too.

“I’m kidding,” he says. “Not that it’s untrue.”

“Gross,” Nile tells him succinctly. She’s still new, they still intimidate her, but already just the prospect of their sex life makes her want to gag, like having to hear anything about her brother’s sex life. Nicky huffs a little laugh again and takes a drag of his cigarette.

“Joe’s is just sleep,” Nicky says. Nile nods, though she doubts it a little, if only because she’s figured out that Joe and Nicky are unbearably charitable about the other’s nature when asked.

“Should’ve guessed,” she says.

“He’ll tell you differently, though. And he’ll try to tell you I have none,” Nicky says, like he can hear her thoughts. “Do not listen to him.” Nile raises an eyebrow teasingly.

“You mean his first answer wouldn’t be just the same as your first answer if I asked?” she says. Nicky grins, a proper grin that makes him look no older than his first thirty years. It looks just like Joe’s drawing.

“Do not listen to him,” he repeats. “I was a  _ priest _ .” He says it as though it is thoroughly scandalous she would even so much as suggest such a thing. Nile laughs. Something in his eyes says there’s a story there, but she doesn’t press for it now. There will be time later. Instead, she shakes her head and relaxes back against his side and closes her eyes.

Nicky’s cigarette isn’t as acrid as she’s used to, and he holds it mostly away from her and breathes out with his head turned to the side. He smells like the hotel brand soap and something woodsy and spicy that reminds her of Joe. It’s late enough now that even the partiers and the traffic have slowed and quieted. The faint sound of waves on the sand lull her into a half doze. She wakes when Nicky stands and pulls her into his arms, coming alert just enough to wrap her arms around his shoulders. She’s asleep before he even closes her bedroom door on his way out.


	2. Nile & Joe

Joe is already awake when Nile steps out onto the porch. It’s rare that he’s awake in the middle of the night. Nicky’s assessment of Joe’s vice being sleep is more than true, he sleeps in whenever possible and naps during the day when there’s nothing better to do. She’d found them this afternoon when she came back from a long hike, curled up on the couch in the living room, Joe sprawled across Nicky’s lap as Nicky flicked through one of his sketchbooks. Probably the nap is why he’s awake now. She looks around, expecting to see Nicky, too, who seems to need almost no sleep, but Joe is alone. He looks up from his drawing.

“Contrary to what it may seem, he does sleep,” Joe says. Nile smiles and sits down next to him.

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never seen it,” she says. “And I’ve never seen you guys so far apart before.” Teasing Joe is easy, with his quick laugh and endless smiles. Joe chuckles a bit now and folds his hands behind his head.

“Well, he’s not that far,” he taps the glass of the window behind him, “and I did wear him out quite thoroughly.” He grins smugly as Nile gags.

“You guys are the worst,” she says. She knows she just encourages them to keep making comments by acting so grossed out, but Andy seems so used to it and  _ someone _ has to remind them to have some decency. Joe laughs again then falls silent.

“He’ll wake up soon enough,” he says after a bit. “He doesn’t like being left alone in bed. Though he leaves me in such a state so often.” He presses the back of his hand dramatically to his brow and Nile giggles a bit. Joe grins and drops his hands back to his lap. Nile glances down at Joe’s sketchbook. A half-rendered image of the lemon trees they’re facing is copied beautifully in shades of gray.

“Should I go?” she asks, motioning to his work. Joe slings out an arm over the back of her chair.

“Stay,” he says. She curls up into her chair, half facing him, half looking out over the garden.

“You guys don’t settle in cold places, huh?” she asks. Joe snorts. His sketchbook rustles as he flips a page.

“Why would we?” he says. “We’re Mediterranean people. You are probably the first of us who isn’t a complete wimp about the cold.”

“Not even Booker?” Nile asks. Joe sighs a bit, his pencil stopping. She turns to look at him. He looks deeply sad.

“Napoleon,” he reminds her quietly. Nile realizes, her stomach bottoming out.

“Warm climates it is,” she murmurs. “No complaints here.” Joe reaches out, gentle fingers against her jaw, and turns her face back out to the garden.

They’re quiet, Joe’s pencil scratching and Nile watching the play of moonlight on the leaves of the lemon trees. Behind them, a light in Nicky and Joe’s bedroom clicks on. Nile glances over at Joe again, but he’s bent over, concentrated. The soft glow from the window backlights him and a sweep of shadow means Nicky is moving around. Joe looks up and tsks. He turns Nile’s face again to where he wants it and goes back to his drawing. She expects Nicky to join them, but after a few minutes it’s still just Joe and her. The light clicks off again, but she suspects Nicky isn’t sleeping.

“How did the last job go?” Joe asks after some time. He obviously doesn’t mean just in general. He was there. It went about as smoothly as expected.

“Good,” Nile says after a bit. She can see Joe nod out of the corner of her eye, but his silence is split now between concentration on his work and waiting for her answer. She considers.

“I think I’m getting used to it,” she says, “being the… being the light for them. Or, I mean, being the person who  _ can  _ help. You know, directly in the fray.” She hates to think of herself as some sort of hero, hates the word. But they do more than just donate money and raise awareness, she knows it’s entirely different.

The first few times they actually faced the immediate gratification for their actions, she’d been shy and bashful, insisting she didn’t deserve their thanks. The weight of being the first person some people see when they’re freed, it’s a strange burden she didn’t expect. This time, though, she had grasped the outstretched hands of mothers and sisters and whispered  _ you’re welcome _ until her throat hurt. It’s still mind blowing to know the difference they're making, to think about how the next few generations will produce something wonderful from their efforts if Copley’s not-at-all-concerning board holds true, but she’s trying to be better about not getting lost in her head with it all.

“Even with everything we have to do to be that?” Joe asks when she doesn’t continue on her own. Nile sighs and tries not to move too much as she slumps further into her chair.

“I don’t want to feel it forever,” she says. “I know I will. I’m not… I still see his face. The man I killed just before…” Joe slows to a stop then looks up at her. She turns.

“Some stand out to me more than others,” he says. “Keane is still pretty recent, of course. But there have been other ones. They still haunt my dreams. Nicky and Andy have them, too. Maybe one day his face will be a blur, but there will be others to replace it.” Nile swallows a little.

“You don’t get ever used to that part, huh?” she asks.

“We shouldn’t,” Joe says firmly. “We absolutely should not get used to that part. It’s shit, of course it is, but being haunted is better than the alternative.” The alternative. The alternative of getting used to taking human life so easily that they lose sight of being human themselves. Nile’s heart aches.

“You’re right,” she murmurs. Joe reaches out and puts a hand over hers.

“You’re doing wonderfully, Nile,” he says. “It takes time to find a way to cope, in all aspects, the killing, the result, or even the immediate lack thereof. It can be a bit much on any end. But you’re doing wonderfully.” She smiles a little.

“I like learning to play guitar,” she says. She’d picked the hobby out randomly one day, desperate to just have something to do besides reading. It helps to turn off her brain and stretch her fingers through the different chords when her thoughts start clamoring too much.

“I’m glad you like it,” Joe says. He squeezes her hand. “It’s torture for the rest of us.” It startles a laugh out of her and she shoves him away. He smiles again, warm and easy as usual.

“How do you?” she asks.

“Cope?” Joe says. He twirls his pencil between his fingers. “In the first few dozen years or so, learning, like you. Learning Nicolò’s language, learning his culture and customs. Teaching him mine, once he let me. It took our minds off quite a lot of what happened. And now… well.” He holds up his sketchbook with a slight smile. “In the end, though, it does all come back to Nicolò really. To have him by my side… we talk. That’s really it. We know each other so well now, even when we leave things between the lines it’s all there.” He watches her carefully as she mulls this over.

She knows what he’s watching for. It had been Andy who confessed what Booker had said to them in the lab and Nile had muttered something about mandated therapy during his 100-year exile. She doesn’t begrudge them their happiness, as she’s already told them so many times. She’s jealous and melancholy sometimes, thinking how she’ll never have the same thing, not unless they pick up a new immortal around her age sometime. But she doesn’t blame their love for her unhappiness and she doesn’t doubt that they suffer these many centuries as deeply as the others do. They’re more well-adjusted about it all, sure, but time is time and it passes them all by equally. Still, they’re cautious.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide,” she blurts out, surprising herself. “I told you. This, you guys, your relationship, it doesn’t bother me.”

“Bothersome isn’t exactly what Booker was talking about, I think,” Joe says, following her thoughts easily. She loves that he can do that. Joe can jump topics as quickly as she does where sometimes Andy and Nicky are left steps behind.

“No,” she agrees. “But it’s like… it’s like seeing my parents together. They loved each other so much. And I wanted something like that, I wanted someone who would look at me like they looked at each other, like you and Nicky look at each other, but I didn’t ever blame them for my being sad that I didn’t have it. And I didn’t ever doubt that they had their problems, too. I loved them, I loved that they had each other. That was enough. And this, you both, it’s just the same. 

“It’s comforting, just… You guys together, it’s like a reminder that not everything absolutely sucks all of the time.” Joe smiles.

“I’m glad you see it like that,” he says. “It’s not something we ever spoke about with Booker, but I think possibly the problems were there from the start. The man has his flaws, goodness knows we all do, but he loved his wife deeply and the time he had with her was very precious to him. In the beginning we didn’t know the root of his upset with us. I’m ashamed to say we might’ve flouted our relationship a little pointedly for him, we thought he was offended by who we were. We didn’t pause to think that he might’ve been resentful of what we had.”

“I don’t think you and Nicky are at all to blame, even if you did flout it for him,” Nile tells him.

“Thank you, Nile,” Joe says, “but unfortunately our guilt does not bend to the will of others.” He smiles gently at her again and pats her knee.

“Really, though,” Nile says, “you guys don’t have to hold back around me. I’d really rather you didn’t.”

“Hold back?” Joe asks. “Just what do you think we’re holding back?” There’s a note of humor in his voice. Nile shrugs.

“You’re both just so… I don’t know, low key.” Joe laughs.

“Hate to break it to you, kid, but what you see is very much what you get with us,” he says. “Or were you expecting we would be constantly all over each other? Screwing around in common areas of the house, maybe? Romantic declarations of love every morning, noon, and night?” There’s a playful glimmer in his eyes now, he’s teasing her.

“From you?” Nile says, playing right along, “100%.” Joe reaches over and swats at her head.

“Just for that, you are going to be subject to more speeches about my Nicolò’s  _ assets _ than you ever wished to not hear. I could go on forever about his body alone, never mind his mind and spirit and soul,” he says.

“Forever is a pretty bold promise,” Nile says.

“I have already written  _ tomes _ devoted to his just fingers. And certainly you don’t want to miss my dissertations on his cock,” Joe tells her, playful menace in his voice. She gags again, curling over in her chair this time holding her stomach. Joe laughs. The light clicks on again in their bedroom. Joe glances over his shoulder, still smiling.

He tears out the page he was working on and passes it over to Nile. The scene is warm and lovingly crafted, but not at all what she was expecting. Instead of sitting on their porch, she’s perched on a wooden swing on the porch of a rustic, cozy looking log cabin. Her body is mostly in shadow, but Joe’s added lighting bugs, throwing the faintest glow over her cheekbones and brow. There are more fireflies scattered just past the railing of her fantasy porch, throwing light out over a little garden and tall trees. It feels safe and protected, not ominous like it might be with the gathering, towering branches casting shadows over the cobbled path. She smiles widely.

“I’ll set it for you in the morning so it doesn’t smudge,” Joe says. The window behind him opens and Nicky leans out.

“Are you keeping Nile awake, my love?” he asks. Joe twists his head and their kiss is so automatic that Nile almost misses the way they leaned into it. One moment parted, the next joined. Nicky raises an eyebrow in mock reproach when they part again.

“Yes, and I’m very tired,” Nile says before Joe can say anything. Joe presses a hand to his heart.

“My heart, I would never. She sought out  _ me _ ,” he says. Nile kicks his ankle, Joe kicks back.

“And simply begged to be your model at 2:30 in the morning?” Nicky asks, all over-exaggerated skepticism and disapproval. He tsks (sounding  _ exactly _ like Joe did, and Nile wonders who picked up the habit from whom) and Nile snickers quietly. She stands and stretches, still holding the drawing carefully.

“I’m very stiff,” she complains. “It took forever.” Nicky shakes his head at Joe.

“And here was I, alone in our bed, wondering that my husband had lost his desire to draw me,” he says mournfully. Joe sputters in protest.

“I will get you both back for this,” he promises. Nile and Nicky share an amused look.

“We’ll see,” is all Nile says.

“Come back inside, Yusuf,” Nicky says, leaning back from the window. “You know you need more beauty sleep than the rest of us.” Joe gasps in outrage. Nile grins and heads to the door.

“Good night,” she says over her shoulder.

“Good night,” they chorus behind her as she retreats inside. There’s a sound suspiciously like Joe crawling through the window and Nicky’s deeply sarcastic voice when something falls to the floor, but she’s already nearly back to her own room. The porch light flickers off and the house settles around her. Nile sets the drawing on her nightstand and crawls into bed.


	3. Nile & Andy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this one evaded me for a while, so editing was weird. I reordered things, and deleted things, and then reverted it to the original, and did it all again. I'm not sure I fully got across what I wanted to, but I cannot edit anymore!! And I wanna get on to posting the next parts. So, a little lenience if this one doesn't hit the right notes please.

There’s a sick fascination to watching mosquito bites redden and rise up before suddenly fading away. Nile smacks another and automatically scratches the area before pausing to count down the seconds before it disappears. The phantom itch persists, but she’s already swatting at a third. The easy solution is to go back into the house and close herself back in the mosquito netting around her bed, but somehow being outside and getting eaten alive still feels better than tossing and turning restlessly.

There’s a single path up to their little house, no back door and no neighbors on either side. Sitting on the steps, Nile can see several meters down the path so she sees Andy coming long before they’re close enough to call out to each other. She doesn’t ever ask where Andy goes, but she does worry. Particularly when Andy is still recovering from a badly pulled leg muscle. She frowns as Andy comes closer. Andy just nudges her over before collapsing beside her with a long, heavy breath.

“I think I’ll start worrying when we pick up a new one who doesn’t suffer some sort of insomnia,” she says. She’s catching her breath still.

“Joe’s rarely up in the middle of the night,” Nile points out. Andy tilts her a look that’s mostly in shadow.

“You think,” she says. Nile nods a little. It has been a while since she took up with them, and certainly the nights that Nicky is up with her far outnumber the nights she sees Joe, but she knows there’s quite a bit still that happens behind closed doors.

“So what is it?” Andy asks, straight to the point. “For Book it was a lot of misery, as you can imagine, kept up by all the memories. Joe’s is stress, he’s a wreck before and after really tough jobs. For me, I don’t know what you could call it. That weird combination of exhaustion and restlessness, whatever that is.”

“Nicky?” Nile asks. Andy snorts a little.

“Worry,” she says, “about the rest of us. If anyone else is awake, he’s awake. It’s touching, but sometimes Joe has to lock him in their room just so he sleeps.” She pauses and looks up to the stars. After a bit she continues, more serious. “But… nightmares most of the time.” Nile rests her chin on her knees.

“Guilt, I guess,” she finally admits. Andy nods a little.

“That’s understandable,” she says quietly. “You wanna talk about it?” Nile shrugs a little, but finds herself speaking up even as she finishes the movement.

“I guess,” she says, “say what you will about the US Army, but they knew how to make sure you believed the people you were fighting were the bad guys. And I’m not saying I want to go back to that, but it’s like, like I have to really face the shades of gray in the world now. Those guys,” she waves a hand, vaguely encompassing the men they’d taken down on the last job, “I mean they were just hired to be there, you know? How many of them actually knew what was going on there, how many _did_ know but felt like shit about what they had to do because it was their job? We killed them all, but what if there were some who just needed the paycheck and didn't know any better or didn't want to be there? Did they deserve to die?”

“Unfortunately,” Andy says, “that way madness lies.” Nile stretches her legs out in front of her and stares down at her toes. She’s heard those words before. It doesn’t stop her circling thoughts.

“It feels redundant to say,” she says, “but I can’t keep thinking like this for another thousand-something years.”

“You can’t,” Andy agrees.

“How do you live with it?” Nile says.

“The ends justify the means mentality, I guess,” Andy says. Nile frowns, but she has to respect that Andy isn’t shying away from the truth.

“That’s a bullshit mentality,” Nile says.

“That’s all I got for you, kid,” Andy says. She sounds very weary. “That's what’s gotten me through. I do what I have to in order to finish the job, do whatever little good I think can be done, and I do what I have to in order to protect my family. If that means wiping out a whole building full of people, that’s what I do.”

“I don’t like that,” Nile says. She slaps at another mosquito aggressively. Her own hand coming down on her arm is deafening. Andy digs her knuckles into her calf to massage the muscle. Nile waves her hands away and grips her leg properly to soothe the ache. Andy leans back on her elbows.

“I know they,” she jerks a thumb back toward the house, “have talked to you about coping with it afterward, but they haven’t even told me about what gets them through the job. All I can offer is what I think.” She hisses through her teeth as Nile hits a sore spot.

“This is why we don’t go on long walks with a pulled muscle,” Nile says. She lightens her grip.

“Sometimes you just gotta move,” Andy says.

“You’re a masochist,” Nile replies. Andy shrugs.

They fall silent and Nile works out the tightness in Andy’s leg. She prays she’s not royally fucking anything up seeing as she only knows the technique from a few Google searches and Youtube videos, but Andy doesn’t seem to be in any distress so she’s thinks she’s okay. Then again, Andy probably wouldn’t admit right away if something hurt too much. Nile glances up at her face to gage her reactions, but Andy looks perfectly peaceful, head tilted back and eyes closed. Nile focuses back on the massage and tries to shut down the clamoring questions that have been keeping her up.

“I guess I oughta talk to Nicky about this,” Nile says after a while. “I mean, he found a good enough reason to join in a bullshit holy war to invade a country he’d never seen and then went and fell in love with his enemy and had to get over all the terrible shit he did. Fucking expert on justification and guilt.” Andy makes a considering noise.

“I’m not saying he won’t have the best insight,” she says, “but only because it’s Nicky, not necessarily because of his circumstances alone. Yes, the Christians committed horrible atrocities, and yes, Nicky chose to be a part of that. But if you’re talking justification alone? It’s not so different from what we do, is it?” Nile doesn’t answer and forces herself to release Andy’s leg. She can’t feel any obvious knots anymore and she knows it’s just an attempt at distraction.

“You basically said it yourself,” Andy continues into Nile’s silence, “the Crusades were bullshit, and what happened was undeniably horrible, and the Christians were definitely in the wrong. When he joined up, Nicky took the reasons given to him and internalized them to be his own. But it took time and perspective for him to realize just how wrong he was. In the moment? He was certain he was doing the right thing.

“We believe in our fight, just like Nicky believed in his. Sometimes we disagree, and sometimes we even argue to be on opposite sides, but at the end of the day we find our reasons for what we do. We can’t always make the right choice, and sometimes history marks us as the villains and we have to deal with the personal implications of that. I mean, I can think of several things I’ve done that are definitely considered war crimes today; Nicky isn’t the only one, his just happened to be the ones that went down so prominently in history. In the end, though, we all tell ourselves whatever we have to in order to get through and we find a way put it behind us. There’s nothing else we can do.” Nile shudders a little and runs her hands along her own jeans.

“Depends on the century, huh?” she says. 

Andy hums in agreement. After a while she sits up and says, “I think you’re caught up in the big picture stuff. I know that it helps you on the other side to think about Copley’s stalker board and all the good that’s coming out of our work, but you’re getting yourself stuck in that stratosphere level thinking.

“I mean, not to conflate this with a whole fucking holy war, but it’s like this: you fought with your brother, right?”

“Of course,” Nile says, snorting a bit.

“Wasn’t there anything that you fought about that you were  _ sure  _ you were right about at the time, but then found out later you actually were wrong?” Andy says. Nile sighs a bit.

“I get you,” she says. Andy nods.

“Stick to the ground-level and try to stay out of your own head when you’re on the job,” she says. “If you believe we’re doing the right thing, then just focus on that. And if you don’t believe it, speak up. You can tell us if you disagree.” Nile nods back.

“Doesn’t help me get over the guilt,” she points out. Andy shrugs a little helplessly.

“I can’t give you an answer on that,” she says. She sounds disappointed and Nile is warmed a little by how much Andy really does want to help. “Maybe Nicky can, maybe he can’t. Maybe it’s just down to whatever went through your mind when you went into Merrick’s lab to get us, and maybe that’s where you start.”

“The trolley problem,” Nile mutters. Andy makes a disparaging noise.

“Do  _ not _ go down that road,” she says.

“That’s pretty much it, though,” Nile says.

“Well, then,” Andy says, “you gotta be okay with whatever you pick. Don’t bury yourself in the minutiae.”

“So don’t get too caught up in the big picture, but also don’t get sucked into the details,” Nile says. Andy cuts her a look before realizing Nile’s taking the piss. She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.

“It’s gonna take a while to work it all out for yourself,” she says. “You can talk to any of us, anytime, but ultimately you gotta find what works for you. And I know you will.” She rests a hand on Nile’s shoulder. Nile takes a long breath and nods.

“Thanks,” she says. Andy squeezes her shoulder.

“I mean it,” she says. “Anytime.” Nile smiles and reaches up to pat Andy’s hand.

“Now,” Andy says, “help me the fuck up and let’s both go inside before Nicky loses more sleep.” Nile huffs a slight laugh and stands, stretching. She waves away some more mosquitoes then turns to offer Andy a hand. Andy exaggerates how difficult it is for her to get up and Nile nearly unbalances, but they make it in without any further injury. Nile’s still smiling as she heads to her room.


End file.
